Traitor
by Sophia Lestat
Summary: Harry's return to Grimmauld Place after Sirius' death is full of surprises. OWL results, NEWT choices and a new professor bring changes to Hogwarts for our favourite three. Snape's exposure as a spy in the Death Eater ranks is unveiled and The Order work
1. The Unexpected

The Unexpected

Harry Potter awoke with a start. His scar prickled annoyingly, his hair was plastered to his head with sweat and the lingering image of his Godfather falling gracefully through the veil still lingered upon opening his eyes.

Sitting up, Harry tried to steady his breathing. His chest hurt as his breath came in harsh waves and threatened hyperventilation unless he could control it. As he hugged his knees to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around him, the flow of tears increased. Silently, he mourned the loss of Sirius as he had every spare moment of the past two weeks spent at number four, Privet Drive.

Harry forced his tird body out of bed and began to pace his room on tiptoe, straining his ears for noises to alert him of the Dursleys awakening. Once or twice a pronounced snore interrupted his otherwise constant movement. He was only momentarily distracted however and his mind turned easily back to Sirius, to Cedric and reluctantly to Dumbledore. The fury he felt raised its ugly head again, and he realised bitterly that he would look similar to Dumbledore's dot on the Marauders Map as he continually walked back and forth across his room.

A gentle flutter brought his thoughts back to the room, and more importantly to Hedwig who stood perched on the desk in front of his window. Seeing the letters and a small package tied clumsily to her leg, Harry quickly crossed the room to her and loosened the ribbon holding his post in place. Hedwig hooted gratefully and hopped into her cage taking gulps of water before eyeing Harry hungrily.

After dropping owl treats into Hedwig's cage, Harry settled himself onto his bed and studied the envelopes and package. Letters from Ron and Hermione were commonplace this summer, and Harry presumed they did not want a repeat of the last when he had behaved so horribly. His stomach gave an unpleasant lurch when he thought of his treatment of Hermione and Ron, especially, but the defiant part of him stood up and almost screamed at him that he was right to have said what he said. The third envelope, and package, bore writing Harry did not really recognise but was strangely familiar. He put the unknown post to one side, and ripped open Hermione's letter first.

As usual, Hermione wrote about homework and OWL results, pausing only in her academic waffle to complain that Ron had arrived at number twelve, Grimmauld Place yesterday, the same day as her, and was even now trying to persuade him to let him copy the extra essay she had prepared for Snape.

'_Ron's argument.'_ Hermione wrote, _'is that as Snape only asked for one essay, the extra eighteen inches I wrote are superfluous, and therefore I could give them to him and still get full marks myself.'_

Harry grinned as he imagined Ron attempting to make Hermione give in and help him. It was the first time Harry had truly grinned in days and his cheeks complained at the unaccustomed use of muscle. Putting Hermione's letter to one side, he picked up Ron's and tried to make the almost crumpled parchment lie flat. He squinted as he deciphered Ron's untidy scrawl.

'_Well mate, can't say that it's much fun here at the moment. Hermione's done an extra eighteen inches (!) for Snape, and she won't let me borrow it. I'm sure she thinks I've done nothing for the last two weeks!'_

Harry grinned again. Ron probably had been doing something, but that something was more likely to have been sneaking out of The Burrow with his Cleansweep Eleven to practice Quidditch moves, or else helping Fred and George with Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes than doing schoolwork.

'_Anyway, I reckon you should be here tomorrow. Snape said he'd be writing to you then gave me the thing which should be with Hedwig to send on with this letter.'_

Snape had written to him? Harry went suddenly cold.

'_So I'll see you soon mate.'_

Harry shot a mistrustful look at the letter and the package lying discarded on his bed. Why would Snape be writing to him? Picking up the letter, he now realized why the handwriting looked so familiar. He had seen the capitalised 'D' for 'Drive' far too many times, deposited neatly in shimmering green ink at the top of his Potions essays.

Sighing heavily, Harry broke the green wax seal on the envelope and opened Snape's message. It did not surprise him that it was short, however what did shock him was the content.

'_Mr. Potter;_

_It appears that, in our Headmaster's eyes, I may have underestimated your abilities. It is for this reason that I am grudgingly offering you a position in my Potions class at NEWT level._

_The package attached contains a Portkey destined to bring you to me. There is a ward on the packaging however, so do not attempt to merely rip the parchment from it. A certain word will ensure your safety in opening it; naturally I cannot simply tell you what it is. The word is the same answer you had to give during one of the tasks in your fourth year. I only hope that your incredibly slow mind can remember it._

_Professor Snape'_

Harry stared at the parchment and read the letter twice more before leaning back on his pillows in shock. He had not expected a place in Snape's NEWT level Potions class, but a tiny part of him agreed that this was a good thing as it meant he had at least managed to scrape a pass at OWL.

He knew immediately the answer he had to give. The only answer he had had to give in the Triwizard Tournament two years ago was to the Sphinx. The thought of the riddle brought back the associated painful memories of that night, but he pushed them from his mind as he grasped the package and whispered, 'spider'.

At once, the little parchment-wrapped box glowed green and the parchment unsealed itself. Another note, still shorter than the first, fell out.

'_You do surprise me Potter. At five in the morning this will transport you to me. We can go from there.'_

Harry could almost hear the sarcasm dripping from Snape as he re-read the note. So Snape thought he was surprised now? Two weeks of almost nothing but constant reading to keep his mind occupied had furthered Harry's understanding of Snape's pet subject, and he had found a new respect for the fine art of perfect brewing.

Checking his watch, Harry felt a jolt of shock. It was already three in the morning. Smirking slightly he thought of Snape's look of disappointment when he turned up, bang on time, for whatever it was the Potions Master had in store.


	2. Snape's Warning

1Snape's Warning

As five o'clock approached, Harry checked his watch obsessively whilst ensuring he had left nothing behind. His trunk was packed fit to burst with books, clothes and the now worn photo-album Hagrid had given him at the end of his first year. When he wasn't looking at his watch, he was checking and re-checking Snape's note about the time, in case it had changed since he read it last. He half knew this would probably not be the case, but Harry would put nothing past Snape.

At ten minutes to five, Harry persuaded Hedwig to fly alone to wherever he ended up. He knew she would find him – she always did – but even he wasn't sure of his end location. He supposed it would be Grimmauld Place, the Order's Headquarters, but maybe he wouldn't be able to return there this summer, not after…

With a start, Harry realised the small silver orb in his hand was glowing green. Casting a final look around, and making sure that the Dursleys would see the note he had left, he gripped his trunk, to which he had strapped his Firebolt and Hedwig's cage, and looked back at his watch.

True to Snape's word, Harry felt the now familiar tug behind his naval as the Portkey whooshed into life. Harry closed his eyes until he hit the floor unsteadily. Screams of hatred confirmed his location almost immediately.

"There he is, nasty little traitor! Killer! Murderer!"

Harry looked up from his uncomfortable heap on the floor of number twelve, Grimmauld Place and saw the curtains billowing as Sirius' mother shouted threats and accusations from her portrait.

'Traitorous child, a curse upon you and yours for defiling the noble house of Black! Worthless god-child of my worthless son!'

Harry felt the anger surge immediately through him as he stood quickly – too quickly – causing a blood rush to his head.

"DON'T YOU DARE, YOU HIDEOUS OLD HAG!" He screamed.

Hurried footsteps behind him made Harry turn. Stuck with the choice of Mrs. Black's insults and the infuriated Potions Master bearing down on him, he thought he'd rather deal with Mrs. Black any day. Fortunately, he saw Mrs. Weasley hurrying along the hall after Snape, who sneered nastily at him, and he was ushered through to the kitchen, leaving his professor to battle with the curtains used to cover the now hysterical portrait.

"Harry dear, you look like you haven't slept a wink!" Mrs. Weasley started her usual fussing, quickly brewing tea and browning toast, then bewitching it to land directly in front of Harry.

"What's all the…Harry!" Ron exclaimed. "I didn't think you'd be here this early." Ron stretched and yawned at the same time, giving Harry the impression that a red-haired tree had split a knot in its trunk.

He grinned. "All right Ron."

Ron returned the grin apprehensively and sank down onto the chair next to Harry. "All right. How's it been?"

Harry knew immediately that Ron was alluding to Sirius' death, but nonetheless answered. "The Muggles? Same as ever. Hideous as a skrewt and twice as useless."

Ron laughed but there was a hint of nervousness in the sound. "So did Snape tell you why you're here so early this year?"

Mrs. Weasley slapped toast down in front of Ron. "Professor Snape, Ron." She reprimanded.

Ron smiled grimly.

"He's given me a place in his N.E.W.T. class."

Mrs. Weasley shrieked with delight, Ron however turned a pale shade of green.

"Oh Harry, that's wonderful." Mrs. Weasley gushed. "Well that's sure to increase your chances of becoming an Auror."

Harry glared at Ron. "What? I didn't know you wanted to keep your career choice a secret!" Ron said defensively. "And she wouldn't stop banging on about how wonderful it would be if we took jobs at the Ministry, you know, follow in dad's footsteps." He added in a whisper. "I think she had some hope of Percy…"

But whatever Mrs. Weasley's hopes for Percy had been Harry didn't find out. A loud crack disturbed the peace of the kitchen as George and Fred Apparated into chairs opposite him.

"Ah," said George knowingly, "We wondered if the old cow's shrieks of joy had anything to do with you." The twins grinned, their identical faces beaming. Harry grinned back in spite of the nagging thought in the back of his mind which told him the last time he had seen this kitchen was when he'd tried to contact Sirius.

"I'm actually a bit tired. I think I'll go for a nap." Harry looked pointedly down at Ron who immediately stood up.

Ron nodded. "Me too. I only really came down to see what all the noise was about."

Harry grinned thankfully at Ron, who had picked up on his tone rather quicker than Harry expected. Grabbing the rest of the toast Ron moved towards the door saying, "Come on, we're in a different room this time. Wait until you see…" He was cut short by the appearance of Snape in the doorway.

"Mr. Potter, I wonder if I might have a brief word." It was a command, not a request. Harry stared up at him.

"Actually, I was just going to bed." He made to walk past Snape, who put a hand on his shoulder.

"This will only take a moment, Potter."

With a backward glance at Ron, Harry allowed Snape to steer him towards one of the many doors along the hallway of Grimmauld Place. Harry had never appreciated the sheer size of the place before, and wondered just how many rooms the house held.

Snape pushed open a door and motioned for Harry to enter the room beyond. What he saw caused a sharp intake of breath. The room looked almost identical to the dungeon in which he had suffered five years of Potions. The sound of the door closing woke him from his surprise and he turned to face Snape.

"Take a seat, Potter." Harry did as he was told and sat uncomfortably on one of the chairs facing a large, silver cauldron. "As I mentioned in my letter, you have been granted a place in my N.E.W.T. class for the coming year. Do not, however, make the mistake of thinking I am happy about this. The Headmaster feels your…talents…should be encouraged. And although it pains me to say, you showed a marked improvement by the end of your fifth year." Harry shifted on his chair, keeping his gaze level with Snape's. "The invitation to study at N.E.W.T. level is one that should be taken very seriously. If you intend to pass your first year and therefore be considered for your second, I shall expect just as much time and effort put into my classes as you put into Quidditch. Am I understood?"

"Yes." Harry paused, "Sir."

Snape's mouth twisted into an unpleasant smile. "Very well Potter, you may go. However, I shall expect you here at nine o'clock tomorrow morning. If you are late once, my invitation will expire. If you show any of your famous insolence, arrogance or less than one hundred percent concentration, my invitation will expire. If you once cross me, or question me in matters unrelated to this subject, my invitation will expire."

As he stood and swept from the room, Snape's robes billowed around him giving the appearance of ship's sail. Harry however, did not notice. He sat motionless on his chair, wondering, not for the first time, if he wouldn't have been better off staying at Privet Drive.

As Harry left the room that he had no doubt he would spend a good part of his summer, he readied a smile for Ron. As predicted, his best friend was standing slouched against the banister waiting for Harry. Smiling his most convincing fake smile, Harry sprang lightly up the stairs and followed Ron towards their new room.

Stepping through the door Ron held open, Harry's jaw dropped. Half the room, Ron's half, was newly orange and had posters of the Chudley Cannons covering almost every inch of wall the room had to offer. Harry's side, or at least, Harry presumed it was his, resembled very much their dormitory at Hogwarts. Harry turned to Ron who grinned enthusiastically.

"Mum didn't know what you'd want done with the place, so we settled on this. Thought you might feel more at home." Ron offered by way of an explanation.

"It's great." Harry replied, the sincerity in his voice hard to miss. Mrs. Weasley had done amazing things with this room, and had even placed Harry's trunk at the bottom of his bed, exactly where it would be at Hogwarts. "Thanks mate." Harry said quietly.

There was an awkward silence in which neither of them spoke. A silent understanding that the moment needed no words. Harry was the first to speak. "Well, I suppose I'll try and get some sleep."

Ron nodded and collapsed thankfully onto his bed. Grateful for the lack of questioning about Sirius, about the Dursleys and about Snape, Harry took off his shoes before he too sank happily onto his four-poster. Hardly a minute had past before he and Ron were lost to their dreams, the silence only punctuated by Ron's occasional snores.

"Harry!" Hermione rushed towards her friend and pulled him into a hug. "It's great to see you. Did you sleep well? Did you like your room? I looked up everything I could find on scouring spells and changing charms. I even managed to persuade Dumbledore that your four-poster would be better off here being slept in than in Gryffindor Tower." As she paused for breath, Harry cut in.

"Yes, I slept fine. The room is great, and it doesn't surprise me that you leapt at the chance to read a book." Even though he'd only slept a few hours, Harry couldn't resist a playful dig.

Hermione looked momentarily put out until she saw the grin twitching at the corners of Harry's mouth. Fixing him with her most stern look she replied, "Well there's nothing wrong with getting a head start on the reading we'll probably have to do later this year anyway." She sat down heavily opposite Ron. "Still not thought about your essay?"

Ron grinned. "Nope, because I know fine well you'll cave in at some point. Honestly Hermione, you're more dependable than the Hogwarts Express." Looking slightly superior, Hermione raised an eyebrow at Ron then turned her attention to breakfast.

"Did Snape tell you why you're here so early this year?" Hermione asked. Harry nodded sullenly.

"Yeah, he's got a room along the hall done out like his dungeon. He seems to think I'd benefit from a few extra lessons before term starts." Buttering his toast, Harry continued gloomily. "Honestly, if he has so little faith in me, why did he agree to teach me in the first place, the bad tempered, slimy…what, Hermione?"

Hermione had widened her eyes and was almost imperceptibly shaking her head.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss. Granger." Harry felt his face redden.

"Good morning , sir ." Hermione replied. Ron grunted and Harry simply watched Snape as he made his way to the stove. After making himself a mug of coffee, Snape sat elegantly at the head of the table looking at the three with mild distaste.

"After little thought, I have decided our lessons should start next week, Potter. I'll have to give myself time to prepare myself for such an ordeal." Snape's mouth curved into a sneer as Harry fixed him with a black stare. The silence in the kitchen was complete, Ron had even stopped eating. Within seconds, however, Mrs. Weasley had bustled in and was chattering away happily, seemingly unaware of the frosty atmosphere.

Harry watched impassively as the table before him filled with bacon, eggs, sausages and other foods. Just as he was about to ask if they were expecting the entire school for breakfast, he heard the doorbell ring followed closely by shrieks and screams from the portrait in the hall.

Snape rolled his eyes and left the table, gracefully sweeping out of the room to open the door and tackle the curtains once again. Harry listened hard from where he sat to try and decipher the voices becoming louder as they moved closer. He knew one voice for certain.

"Wotcha Harry! Good to see you!" Tonks almost bounced into the kitchen, her hair a shocking blue to match her dragon skin boots. "Merlin, I'm starving!" And without waiting a second more, Tonks settled into a chair next to Hermione and started loading her plate.

Another familiar and even more welcome voice cut in over Tonks' and Hermione's chatter.

"Harry." Harry stood and turned to greet Lupin, who looked even more tired but less patched than usual.

"Hi." Harry managed. Lupin put out a hand and rested it on Harry's shoulder before taking the seat next to him.

Other members of The Order filed in, Alastor Moody and a woman Harry didn't recognise sat together at the end of the table. Arthur Weasley followed next, yawning and stretching before greeting Harry in his usual, jovial way. Harry allowed himself to get lost in the chatter of the table, piling food onto his plate even though his appetite had left him. Forcing himself to eat steadily, Harry caught snippets of conversation around the table.

"Worst night shift ever," Mr. Weasley was commenting. "Three Muggle-baiting cases in one night! I haven't seen anything like this since the last time old…"

Tonks and Hermione were laughing about something, Harry thought he heard Tonks mention Mundungus Fletcher and a stolen broomstick but didn't catch the joke.

"How are you, Harry?" Lupin's question startled Harry away from his plate, and as he looked up into his old Professor's face he saw the sadness he knew rested in his own eyes.

"Okay, I suppose." Harry didn't want to talk about this now, not here. Lupin seemed to take the hint as he lingered on Harry's face for a moment longer, then poured himself some coffee and continued with his breakfast.

The screams from the hallway finally died down and Snape's unwelcome presence once again reminded Harry of why he was really here. Before he could get lost in that particular thought however, Fred and George Weasley ran into the kitchen, followed closely by Ginny.

"They're here!" Fred panted.

"Just arrived." George agreed. Harry looked at them both, confused, then at Hermione who had turned a delicate shade of green.

"O.W.L.'s.," she managed to say quietly before standing hastily, running from the room and slipping straight into the bathroom.

Harry swore he could hear faint retching sounds from the hallway. He also thought that if his heart started to beat any harder the entire table would hear. An uneasy calm, full of anticipation had filled the room. Ginny handed Harry a letter, sealed in wax with the Hogwarts crest, then passed one to Ron who looked exactly how Harry felt.

"Let's wait for Hermione." Harry suggested. Nodding gratefully Ron agreed as Ginny placed Hermione's letter gently next to her plate.

Harry looked at the letter with mixed feelings of dread and excitement. The contents of this particular letter would decide which N.E.W.T..'s he could take, and which he couldn't. He was wishing, hoping for passes in Charms and Transfiguration. Those, coupled with Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts would lead him onto, hopefully, a career as an Auror, although he was unsure as to which subject he would keep for his fifth N.E.W.T.

Hermione broke Harry's concentration as she came back into the room. Harry suppressed a grin. He knew that Hermione could not have done anything but passed all her O.W.L.'s and it amused him slightly to see her puffy-eyed and still a little green as she took her seat at the table.

"On the count of three?" Ron suggested. After nods from both Hermione and Harry Ron counted, "One, two…two and a bit…three!"

The three friends fell silent for a moment as they each studied their results. Hermione let out a squeal of delight that both Harry and Ron knew meant she'd passed each and every subject with an 'O'. Looking like she was going to pass out, Hermione fanned herself with her envelope, eyes still locked on the parchment she was holding.

Ron and Harry looked at each other, both surprised to see the other was grinning.

"A pass in everything except Divination." Ron laughed. "As if I was ever going to pass anyway! Come on mate, how did you do?" Hermione looked over at Harry expectantly.

"'O's." Harry said simply. "A lot of 'O's." He kept staring down at the letter. "An 'A' in History of Magic, Divination and Astronomy. 'E' for Herbology."

"And?" Questioned Ron.

"'O's." Harry said again. "'O's for all the others." Harry felt his hands beginning to shake. This was it; this was the chance he'd been wishing for. Hermione and Ron whooped and roared, the twins and Ginny adding their own cheers to the racket. Before he knew it, Harry's hand was being wrung by Lupin, then Mr. Weasley. He looked over to Ron who was in danger of suffocation trapped by one of Mrs. Weasley's more enthusiastic hugs.

"An 'O' in Defence Against the Dark Arts, oh Ron!" Tears of happiness were streaming down Mrs. Weasley's face, but it was mere moments before she noticed Harry. Pulling him into her hug, Harry found himself uncomfortably crushed between Ron and Mrs. Weasley's arms.

"Put them down, Molly." Lupin said kindly. "You don't want to kill them before they can even let anyone else know." Mrs. Weasley relinquished her hold of Ron and Harry, only to pull Hermione to her in an equally huge hug.

"Smart, clever Hermione!" She kept saying, "Your parents will be so proud!" Hermione managed to pull away gently and turned to face Harry and Ron. The three looked at each other in silence for a moment before leaping up and down, their arms around each other, screaming for all their worth.


	3. Hermione's Realisation

Hermione's Realisation

The rest of the morning passed quietly as Harry, Ron and Hermione spent some hours in silence tending to Buckbeak. Harry could see a marked deterioration in Buckbeak's coat and many of the ferrets, brought up as food, had been left untouched. The hippogriff had a tired, sad look about him and seemed inclined to do nothing but mope in a corner; his only movement an expectant turn of his head each time the door opened. Harry sat next to Buckbeak, his hand absent-mindedly smoothing the once-glossy feathers on his neck. All three knew he was missing Sirius, but as the morning slid into afternoon none of them voiced their opinions.

Harry was grateful for the silence his friends afforded him. He didn't know what he was supposed to say. So much had changed in so little time and his guilt at Sirius' death plagued him every moment he was awake. The summer holidays still stretched out in front of him and there were times he wondered if he could get through the next few weeks without anyone mentioning Sirius or what had happened in The Department of Mysteries.

So lost in his thoughts, Harry's attention was drawn towards Hermione and Ron who were nudging each other and making frantic faces. His heartbeat quickened.

"Harry…" Hermione's voice faltered, "Harry, if you want to…talk…about anything, you know we'll listen, don't you?"

Harry nodded glumly. He'd known it was too good to last. "Yeah, well…" His voice trailed off and he concentrated hard on Buckbeak's neck.

"Listen mate, I don't know how you feel but I know how I felt last year, you know, when dad was attacked." Ron swallowed hard. "I know it's different. I know it doesn't come close to…"

An awkward quiet descended on the room, the only sound Buckbeak's strangely comforting sigh as he rested his head on Harry's knee. Harry blinked, feeling his eyes and face grow hot. He couldn't find the words to explain how he felt, to explain the guilt and the loss. His parents had died to protect him, Cedric had died because of him, and Sirius had died because he, Harry, had been too stupid to remember the mirror. Everything hit Harry then; the accumulated guilt for Sirius and Cedric, the pain that he'd denied for two of the longest weeks of his life exploded out of him in a scream.

As Buckbeak rose swiftly and angrily from the floor Hermione rushed towards Harry, only hesitating slightly before kneeling next to him and pulling him towards her. She wrapped her arms around him as Harry fought against her, fought against himself, and fought against the memories each vying for attention in his mind. As he pushed Hermione roughly away, Harry hated himself for it. She looked hurt, disappointed and close to tears of her own. Ron stood uncertainly a few feet away, unsure of whether he should stay or leave.

Harry's screams and Buckbeak's shrieks of anger subsided. Harry's scar throbbed painfully and he pushed himself as close to the wall as he could get, his arms wrapped around his knees. Staring blankly into the grim darkness of the room he rocked gently backwards and forwards, tears streaming down his face as he replayed moment after moment, death after death in his mind. First there were his parents, the flash of green light and Voldemort's high-pitched laugh. Then Professor Quirrell, the hideous sight of the man's flesh blistering at the touch of Harry's skin and Voldemort's screeches adding to the din of Quirrell's screams. Next he saw Tom Riddle as he had been at Hogwarts, the good-looking boy who was so very much like Harry. Harry's mind went over Tom's death in slow motion; the ink flowing over Harry's hands like blood, Tom's screams and writhing agony before he vanished, the gentle _drip drip drip_ of ink in the otherwise silent chamber. Still more death plagued Harry's mind as he saw Cedric fall at Voldemort's command, at Wormtail's wand. He thought bitterly of the death of Barty Crouch Junior and that if Fudge had had one ounce of sense, none of the last few months needed to have happened. Finally, and most painfully, Harry let his mind wander to a memory he had only visited in his sleep. His Godfather's face full of fear and surprise, the shriek of triumph from Bellatrix Lestrange, the moment Sirius had fallen through the veil.

Aware of Hermione moving closer to him again, Harry drew his arms tighter around his knees. He was determined to sit this out, to let the images playing over and over in his mind remain there until he either went mad or passed out with the pain and the guilt. Harry was unaware that Ron had left the room or that Hermione's arm was once again around his shoulders as she tried to comfort him. All Harry could see or hear were the faces and screams of those he'd allowed to die.

After what seemed like hours, Harry became slowly aware of Hermione's warm arm still tight around his shoulders. He relaxed slightly, tears still flowing down his face and leant heavily against her. Hermione let out a sob and pulled Harry even closer to her, her other hand smoothing his hair from his face. Finally Harry's breathing slowed although the tears would not stop. He felt cold and shivered involuntarily before wrapping his arms around Hermione, grateful for her silence. Without a word, Hermione pulled gently away from Harry, leaving the room for only a few moments before returning with a blanket. Harry had heard anxious, hushed voices at the door when she went out but no one followed her back into the room. Again he found himself grateful for Hermione's thoughtfulness but accepted the blanket without a word of thanks.

Hermione settled herself on a cushion of straw and rested her back against the wall. Harry had made no attempt to even unfold the blanket she'd brought so she pulled her friend back towards her, covering him with the thick, soft wool. Sitting as she was, Hermione ran through sentences in her mind. Nothing sounded appropriate however, how should she know how to deal with this? Tears stained her face as she looked over to Harry, his eyes still glazed. The blanket had slid off one shoulder and Hermione knew that the shivers that were shaking Harry's body were more due to shock than temperature. She reached over and pulled the blanket back onto Harry's shoulder. As she did, Harry turned his head to look at her. Hermione gasped. She'd never realised what it was before, but the burden of a thousand deaths seemed to leaden Harry's gaze. An indescribable sadness shone from her friend's tired eyes before they closed and Harry leant gratefully against Hermione's shoulder.

Before long, Harry was shivering again. He shifted slightly and lay down on Buckbeak's straw, pulling the blanket tightly around him. Hermione moved closer and lifted Harry's head to rest on her leg. She didn't know what to do, whether to speak or let Harry remain silent, so she simply relaxed back against the wall again. Looking down at Harry, Hermione stroked his hair gently. Her mother had always done this for her when she was upset and she found it comforting. Harry's sigh reaffirmed her belief that she was not the only one who was calmed by this.

"'Mione?" Harry mumbled. "D'you think I'm crazy?"

Hermione jumped slightly at Harry's voice. "No," she replied slowly, "I just think that you've had to cope with too much."

Harry turned over onto his back, eyes closed, and readjusted the blanket as he shivered again. "Sometimes I think I'm crazy."

Hermione gently pushed Harry's hair from his face again. "I don't think you're crazy at all. It's just that…well…maybe you should, you know, tell someone how you feel. It can't be good Harry, keeping everything bottled up." She spoke softly, trying to imitate her mother's voice. Harry opened his eyes and looked up at her.

"I don't know how to." He could feel the first bubbles of anger building and fought hard to suppress them. "I feel so guilty." Harry stopped in surprise. Where had that come from? Hermione looked back at Harry.

"Guilty?"

"About Cedric. About…about Sirius." Harry's eyes welled with tears again as he held Hermione's gaze. "You were right, I always want to play the hero. Look where that's got me. The one person I could have called family has gone." Tears streamed uncomfortably onto Harry's ears and he was surprised to see shiny trails over Hermione's cheeks. "I could have lived here, with Sirius, like he said just after we'd discovered Wormtail. I could have had a family." Great, dry sobs pushed through Harry's chest as he closed his eyes, the old images of Sirius flooding his mind. Hermione pulled Harry up by his elbows and drew him to her, holding him in a hug as he screamed and swore into her shoulder.

Silence fell quickly as Harry drew in a sharp breath. _'Neither can live while the other survives'_. That was what Trelawney had predicted. Kill or be killed. Murderer, or murdered.

"He's going to pay." Harry said quietly.

"I'm sorry?" Hermione sounded distracted.

"Nothing," Harry replied. "But thank you." Hermione smiled slightly as she pulled the blanket once again around Harry's shoulders. This is what friendship meant. Not petty arguments over homework or someone to play wizard's chess with, but someone to love, someone to cherish, someone to admire. And she did admire Harry. Hermione didn't understand how it would feel to lose your entire family, but in the last hour in that room she knew she understood Harry a little more. She understood where his survival instinct came from, where his desire to succeed lived and why he felt he had to protect everyone he knew. Hermione knew now that Harry had seen too much, done too much, been part of too much to survive on his own. She knew now why Dumbledore had called her to his office only two shorts weeks ago, why he had warned her of the hard times ahead. She knew now why she was the first witch in her family, knew why Harry had been so important to her from the first day she really knew him.

She finally understood what Dumbledore had meant when he said, _'Do not enter lightly into the coming years with Harry. If you are a friend, stay with him and offer him comfort even when you know he will turn it down. Do everything you can to enhance his understanding of the years ahead and never, under any circumstances, stand in his way.'_

Hermione gazed down at Harry, his eyes now closed, and resumed the gentle strokes over his hair as she turned towards her own corridors of thoughts and was lost to her memories of The Boy Who Lived.

Having woken from an uncomfortable, nightmare drenched sleep, Harry opened his eyes slowly. His eyelids felt swollen and puffy, his throat hoarse. His gaze found Hermione who was resting her head back against the cool wall, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of wizard chess, Devil's Snare and potion riddles. Harry let a small smile blossom briefly on his lips before sitting up and startling Hermione.

"Harry, you're awake." Hermione looked concerned.

"You know, for such a know it all you're slow sometimes." Harry quipped. He looked down at the floor to avoid the disapproving glare. "Thanks Hermione." Raising his eyes to look at her, Harry smiled. "There aren't many people who would've put up with that. Come to think of it, there aren't many people who put up with me." Harry rubbed his eyes. "I bet I look awful, what's Mrs. Weasley going to say?"

Hermione shrugged, "She'll just have to say nothing." She replied, uncharacteristically harsh. "I told her that this afternoon shouldn't be mentioned and if you wanted to talk about it you would. In your own time."

Harry nodded, grateful again for Hermione and her calm, level head. Hermione on the other hand did not feel levelheaded at all. Her heart was still pounding, unsure of whether Harry would start screaming again. It was a sound she would pay good money to never hear again. The pain and fury was all too clear in the indeterminable noises he had made, and more than once he had scared her.

Harry stood and stretched, his muscles complaining. He felt like he'd slept for a week. Offering Hermione his hand he pulled her to her feet. They stood awkwardly opposite each other for a moment before Harry spoke.

"I suppose I'd better put in an appearance downstairs." Hermione immediately looked worried.

"Maybe you should just get some more sleep, in bed I mean. It can't have been comfortable on that floor. I can always bring some dinner up for you." Harry nodded.

"Okay, at least this way I only have to face Ron. Where is he, by the way?" Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I'm sorry Harry, it's just he put his head 'round the door when…well when I was hugging you. He took one look at us and stormed out. Honestly, sometimes I wonder what gets into him."

Harry knew immediately what was up with Ron. He still didn't understand how he saw what neither Ron or Hermione could. Their constant bickering, the saga with Hermione, Viktor Krum and Ron's indignant protests about not wanting to go to the ball with Hermione. The way they fell out over stupid little things, the way Hermione always relented and helped Ron with his homework. The way Ron tried to enthuse Hermione with Quidditch rules, regulations and teams. The only problem now would be Ron's reaction to seeing Hermione holding Harry to her as if her life depended on it.

"I don't know Hermione, I'll find him." Harry turned to leave and felt Hermione's hand close around his arm.

"You're not alone Harry, I consider you family, so does Ron." Harry's heart swelled. The sincerity in Hermione's voice was ever-present but it seemed defiant somehow with this statement. He felt his eyes grow hot again as he turned back to Hermione and closed his hand over hers.

"I know."

Hermione stood alone in Buckbeak's room and watched Harry as he walked through the door without even a glance backwards. Looking towards Buckbeak she lowered herself into a low bow and waited for the creature to return it. The hippogriff obliged and bent his knees before snuffling in the pile of dead ferrets.

"We're not so different you know Buckbeak. You're an outcast for something you didn't do, and half the wizarding world would consider me one for something I can't help." Hermione sighed and sat heavily down onto a heap of straw. Buckbeak bent his knees again and lay next to her, his sorrowful eyes looking hopefully towards the door.

"He's not coming back Buckbeak. He's gone. Gone for good." Kidding herself that she meant Sirius, Hermione knew in her heart that Harry was the one who had slipped away from her, from Ron, even from Dumbledore.

"Oh, it's you." Ron's voice was strangely cold as Harry pushed open the door to their room.

"Hi." Said Harry in reply. "Look, I'm sorry. It's just…it's just that…"

"You don't have to explain anything to me." Snapped Ron. "Thought you'd still be cuddled up with Hermione. Looks like Cho was right." Ron glared at his hands as Harry snorted.

"What!"

Ron looked across at Harry. "You know what. Couldn't be content with everything you've got, you had to take her as well."

Harry almost exploded with anger. "Everything _I've_ got? I've lost half of what I had! I've lost the closest thing to a dad I've ever known! More to the point, how can you sit there and tell me I'm taking Hermione away?"

Ron laughed humourlessly. "Oh, yeah, right. You mean the man you barely knew?" Ron knew he was being unfair, but the sight of Harry resting comfortably in Hermione's arms was burnt into his eyes. "Oh yes, a fine family unit you would have made."

Harry stood at the doorway, gob smacked. He had expected some degree of detached, disguised anger but he had not expected an attack on Sirius. Harry opened his mouth to tell Ron exactly what he thought of him but no sound came out. He couldn't understand why Ron would treat him like this, say things like this. Harry's feelings swung wildly between sorrow and anger, both bursting forth at the same time.

"You've got everything I've ever wanted, Ron! A family. Somewhere to call home. People who love you for who you are. People who are proud of you for being a wizard. You're a prefect, you're popular, and you've got so much family around you that you're blind to what you've got. As for Hermione…" Harry paused, "I'm grateful for what she did but mate, really, me and Hermione? Please!" Harry's eyes pleaded with Ron who stared angrily back.

"I saw you, the two of you, sitting there…" he began weakly.

"Yes, and I saw you at the Yule Ball. Do you really think I'd even entertain the idea of…of…well…you know…" Harry's embarrassed voice trailed off.

Ron's face flushed red and his gaze dropped to his knees. He mumbled something about feeling tired and he hadn't meant any of it. Harry continued to look imploringly at Ron. Keeping his face turned away Ron stood slowly and took a few steps towards Harry.

"I…erm…well, I…" Ron looked up at his best friend before taking a huge step towards him and hugging him tightly. Harry uncertainly put his arms around Ron and patted him awkwardly on the back.

As Ron pulled away he quickly wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "I just, well, I know things have been crap mate. For you I mean. But they've been no picnic here either. Mum's still upset about Percy. The prat still won't visit her and still avoids dad at work. He's just annoyed that Dumbledore and you were right. He knows he looks a right idiot and it's hurting mum and dad that he still won't speak to them. And…well I miss Sirius too. I've never known anyone who's died, not really."

Harry nodded. He knew what it was like to struggle to find the words he wanted to explain how he felt. He only needed to look back at the disaster that was his only date with Cho to realise he had a lot of learning to do where putting feelings into words were concerned. He and Ron looked uncomfortably at one another before Ron broke the ice with the suggestion of a game of wizard chess. As he prodded the pieces to move into line, Ron stole glances at Harry. Something had changed between them, or had changed in Harry, he didn't know which.

Harry and Ron's conversation started awkwardly, but soon their quarrel was forgotten as they both concentrated on directing their pieces. Ron won, as ever, and Harry was sure there was more than the usual amount of triumph in his best friend's face.


	4. Celebrations

Celebrations…and Disaster

As he went to bed that night, snuggled deep under the impossibly soft eiderdown, Harry let his mind wander to the feeling of complete well being he had felt as Hermione held him. He knew that Hermione was nothing but a friend, but he had never had someone tell him they considered him family, not in the sincere tone Hermione had used. He smiled in spite of the searing pain ripping through his heart, glad of the darkness that engulfed him as he fell into a dreamless sleep.

Ron however slept very little, his mind kept returning to that sight of Harry buried so deeply in Hermione's arms. It made him feel physically sick, knowing that she had never held him in that way. The only time he came close to contact like that was…well, never. He ignored Harry's soft snores and turned over restlessly, trying to get comfortable. Every time he closed his eyes the image of Harry and Hermione burned in his mind.

Hermione spent the entire night awake. She sat reading by candlelight, her mind occasionally wandering to the feeling of Harry's warmth against her as they had sat in Buckbeak's room only hours before. She chided herself for being silly, as if she and Harry were anything more than friends! The images she saw in her imagination however betrayed her rational thought. She saw Harry, happy and relaxed, as she knew he could never truly be. One moment they were relaxing by the lake, the next researching advanced potion brewing in the library, the next…Hermione shivered, an involuntary smile playing on her lips. Looking over towards Ginny she remembered the younger girl's crush on Harry months before and wondered how she felt now. Angrily closing her book Hermione settled down against her fluffy duck-down pillows and tried to sleep. All attempts were fruitless however, and she ended up leaving her bed and dressing quickly before heading to the kitchen in search of a distraction. She knew that she'd be pushed to find anything to hold her attention at three in the morning, but if she lay in bed much longer she'd go crazy.

The kitchen was dark, comforting somehow, and as Hermione sat sipping a cup of milky tea she found herself again fantasising about Harry's head resting gently in her lap. She was confused; what had happened to turn her best friend into an object of desire?

"Severus!"

The flash of green light and almost hysteric scream caused Hermione to jump, her tea flowing from its cup and over the knotted surface of the table. She turned to the fire and saw Mrs. Weasley's head floating in the flames.

"Hermione! I didn't expect to find you here." Mrs. Weasley sounded tense. She tried hard to wipe the concern from her features and looked kindly at Hermione. "Have you seen Professor Snape, dear?"

Hermione shook her head. "No…I…I couldn't sleep so…"

Mrs. Weasley cut her short. "No matter," Her tone was suspiciously light, "Try to go back to bed, you've…I've…well, good night."

Hermione stared at the place where Mrs. Weasley's head had been. She had sounded far too desperate to contact Snape. Maybe it was her tired state, perhaps Mrs. Weasley hadn't sounded anxious at all. Hermione sat in her chair and sipped her tea, letting the sweetness fill her mouth before swallowing and wondering why she kept seeing Harry's perfect green eyes staring sadly into her own.

The mood at number twelve, Grimmauld Place was an unusually cheery one as Harry and Ron made their way downstairs towards the kitchen. The two friends chatted quietly about Quidditch, mainly about Ron's favourite team the Chudley Cannons.

Lowering their voices further, they crept past the portrait of Sirius' mother. Harry was sure he heard faint snores coming from behind the curtains hiding the canvas from view.

"Ron, Harry…" An urgent whisper from the landing above made them turn sharply, Ron almost knocking over the troll's leg umbrella stand. Clutching wildly at the collection of sticks and umbrellas, Harry stuffed his hand in his mouth to keep from laughing. Watching Ron, and catching Hermione's shining eyes as she descended the stairs he felt happier than he had done since…well, since what happened. The thought sobered him a little, but did not stop the shaking he was finding increasingly difficult to control. Ron's face was bright red; his arms wrapped around the dusty objects from the troll's leg and his expression a determined glare at Harry.

After he caught his breath Harry hastened to help Ron. They quietly placed the sticks and umbrellas back into their holder as Hermione waltzed past, her shoulders still quaking with mirth. Harry and Ron straightened up and turned towards the kitchen. Just as they did so the doorbell rang and Ron was caught up in a swirl of curtain.

'Cretins and Muggle-borns! Blood traitors and worthless disgraces!'

Mrs. Black had apparently woken from her slumber and this time Harry let the yell of laughter escape, not bothering to hold back now the portrait was aware of their presence. Holding his side, Harry peeked through the spy-hole in the door and grinned at the sight of Tonks waiting on the other side. As he pulled open the door Tonks turned and flushed red. Her hair was a fetching dark chocolate brown today, and Harry's stomach made an unpleasant lurch as she wrinkled her freckled button nose.

Tonks stepped over the threshold, pulling with her a suitcase in a vile shade of green. She was followed by Lupin who smiled gently at Harry before joining Ron in his fruitless attempts to close Mrs. Black's curtains. Still grinning, Harry closed the door quietly and let out a happy sigh as the screams and insults were silenced finally.

"All right, you two?" Tonks asked. "Sleep okay?" Ron and Harry nodded.

"What's with the suitcase?" Ron asked quietly as they tiptoed along the corridor, towards the kitchen.

Tonks grinned. "I'll be staying for a few days, things are a bit hectic at home." She grimaced and her hair turned a violent shade of purple. "I haven't been feeling too well," she added, "I can't keep things the same for more than a couple of hours. Don't know what on earth's got into me."

As they reached the kitchen, they found Mrs. Weasley busying herself at the stove. There were already enough plates piled with food to feed a small army and the kitchen table almost groaned with the weight. Harry raised his eyebrows at Ron.

"Er, mum?" He ventured. "Are you all right?"

"What? Oh, yes dear. I'm fine," Mrs. Weasley began furiously stirring a pot of beans, "just thought we'd have a nice big breakfast this morning."

Tonks laughed. "Molly, there's enough here to feed the entire Order!"

"Well that is the idea." Mrs. Weasley replied irritably.

The smile immediately vanished from Tonks' face. "The entire Order?" she whispered, "What, everyone?"

Mrs. Weasley made a strange, non-committal sound and went back to her cooking. Harry and Ron stared at her back, Tonks yanked her suitcase out of the kitchen and they heard her trying to creep silently up the stairs.

"Why do you think they're all coming here?" Asked Ron. "I mean we've never seen them all together before. There're members we've never even met!" Harry nodded.

"I know," his mind raced to try and find a reason for the impromptu gathering. "Maybe they've just decided to get together, discuss ideas…" his voice trailed off. It seemed more than unlikely.

"I expect," came Hermione's clear voice from the corner, "that they've simply got to have a meeting together at some stage." She peered at Harry and Ron over the top of her book. "They don't have to be quite so careful any more, not now the Ministry's realised their mistake." Hermione carefully avoided Harry's eyes whilst she spoke, and then dropped her own back to the page. Ron tilted his head slightly.

"Most Potente Potions!" He exclaimed. "How on earth did you manage to get a copy of that?" Hermione sighed and slammed the book shut in her lap. She'd had very little sleep and the last thing she wanted was to explain the complicated process she'd had to complete to get the book.

"I don't see why you would care," she snapped, "you usually don't." Leaving her words hanging in the air, Hermione stood awkwardly from her chair and stalked out of the kitchen. Harry and Ron stared after her in surprise.

"I only…"

"Leave it mate," Harry replied, "she'll just be tired." Ron glared at the doorway.

"Yeah? Well, she's got no right to take it out on me." Ignoring Harry's protests, Ron hurried out of the kitchen to follow Hermione to her room.

Harry pulled out his favourite chair, just close enough to the fire to catch its heat, and settled into it. His stomach grumbled and he realised with a jolt just how little he'd eaten recently. Eagerly eyeing a plate of sausages, he wondered if Mrs. Weasley would notice if a couple went missing. Before he could dwell on it too much however, Fred and George Apparated almost on top of him.

"Morning Harry," yawned Fred. "We just saw Tonks on the stairs. She said something about the Order coming together? Sounded surprised."

"Yup," agreed George, "and she mentioned something about staying. Didn't seem too keen to talk for too long though."

"You two!" Mrs. Weasley's voice rang out in the cavernous kitchen. "Make yourselves useful and set up the spare table." Wiping her sleeve across her forehead she continued, "And Harry dear, would you mind looking after the toast?" Harry shook his head and looked over at the grill Mrs. Weasley indicated. "Thank you dear," Mrs. Weasley smiled, "It's so wonderful to have some help now and again." She looked pointedly at Fred and George who were wrestling with the table-legs, which were refusing to stay in place.

The loud, clanging bell rang again and Mrs. Black's screeches filled the house once more. Harry heard hurried footsteps on the stairs and stifled a giggle as whoever it was fell over the troll's leg umbrella stand.

"Honestly," exclaimed Mrs. Weasley, "You'd think they could remember a little thing like not ringing the doorbell!" She hurried out, adding her own shouts to the din. Harry could hear Tonks apologising profusely at the top of her voice, then heard Lupin's voice carry over the commotion.

"Molly, Molly," he was saying, "Just leave her to me. Take Arabella and Lakshmi down to the kitchen, Tonks too. I'll deal with this."

When Mrs. Weasley returned she was mumbling furiously to herself. Harry looked round to inspect the newcomers. Mrs. Figg he knew, of course, but the second woman he only recognised from breakfast the day before. He nodded politely and said hello, but turned back to the toast he was supposed to be watching. Piling the delicious-looking toast onto a plate, Harry managed to find space on the table for it just as other members of the Order were filing into the kitchen. Most of them he recognised from summer last year, when they'd rescued him from Privet Drive. The others he took little notice of as they took places around the table and chatted amongst themselves.

"I will not discuss this now, Ron." Hermione's voice carried clearly into the kitchen. "No, I mean it, later." As she walked into the kitchen Hermione let out a little gasp of surprise then flushed red. Slipping into a chair next to Tonks she whispered over to Harry, "Can you talk to him?" indicating Ron, who had sat heavily down into a chair next to Harry. Harry shook his head.

"No way," he replied, "You can leave me out of this." As no one appeared to be taking any notice of him, Harry started to load up his plate with bacon and egg, reaching over for a slice of toast before lifting his knife and fork. With a groan he saw Mrs. Weasley stand at the end of the table before she called for a hush.

"Well," she started, "As we're all gathered here, I thought this would be the perfect time to say congratulations to Ron, Harry and Hermione on their O.W.L. results." Harry heard Ron shifting in his seat. "I think we can all agree," Mrs. Weasley continued, "That they have done extremely well, especially with the added pressure of what the last twelve months have brought them." There was a murmur of agreement around the table at this and most of the Order turned to look at Harry, all but one of them with sympathy in their eyes. Lupin, Harry noticed, was looking at him with clear, proud eyes. Mrs. Weasley raised her wand and flicked it ceremoniously at the ceiling, at which a huge banner in crimson and gold fell. Harry felt his face grow hot as he read his name alongside Ron and Hermione's, the huge 'congratulations' spelled out above. Even Ron grinned to the room, his argument with Hermione temporarily forgotten.

"In recognition of the results you gained," Lupin was speaking now, "I hope you don't mind, but Molly decided we should get you all a gift." Mrs. Weasley turned a delicate shade of pink.

"Now Remus, it wasn't just my idea," she scolded. Reaching into the cupboard behind her, Mrs. Weasley passed gifts along the table to Harry, Ron and Hermione. "Open up!" she exclaimed.

All three packages were of identical size and shape, each wrapped in gold with crimson ribbon. Ron was the first to open his and gave a yelp of shock as a broomstick emerged in front of him, bringing a shower of red confetti with it.

"Mu…Mum…that's a…it's a…you got me a…a Nimbus 5000?" Ron's voice faltered slightly as he stroked the smooth cedar wood handle. The birch twigs almost glimmered in the light, the registration number picked out in gold. "RW 1," Ron read. "Thank you," he mumbled, "This is, well, it's amazing." Ron spoke quietly, his attention almost all still on the broom. Mrs. Weasley was positively glowing now, tears in her eyes as she watched Ron.

"Hermione?" asked Lupin, "Aren't you going to open yours?" Hermione nodded and carefully undid the ribbon holding the little package together. A flat envelope burst out, covering Hermione in confetti. Looking up quizzically at Lupin, Hermione broke open the wax seal and pulled out a gold piece of parchment. Her eyes were almost a blur as she read. Without saying a word she leapt up from her chair and ran straight to Mrs. Weasley, hugging her tightly around the middle.

"Well?" asked Harry, "Do we have to wait all day to find out what it is?" Hermione turned to face him and grinned.

"A book token," she replied, her voice shaking, "Of sorts." She walked over to Harry and handed him the parchment.

'Flourish and Blotts invite Miss Hermione Granger to visit their Diagon Alley shop at her leisure, and choose whichever publications she wishes. Our best staff will be on hand to both recommend and pack any items she chooses from our extensive range, and will be able to order any titles she requests which are not immediately available.

We would also like to congratulate Miss Granger on her superb O.W.L. results, and wish to make it known that Flourish and Blotts is indeed proud to call her our customer.

Yours sincerely,

All at Flourish and Blotts'

Harry understood Hermione's jubilation at once. Giving Hermione free-reign in Flourish and Blotts was like sending Dudley to live in a sweet factory. As he handed the note back to Hermione, Harry looked at his own parcel. He glanced up at Lupin who nodded. Harry's hands shook slightly as he un-tied the ribbon, holding the lid tightly onto the box. He was apprehensive about the contents. The last thing he needed would be a reminder of Sirius, or indeed of anything that had happened in say, the last five years.

Slowly lifting his fingers away from the lid, two things sprang from the little box. One, a small battered envelope landed sadly in Harry's bacon. The second, a more elaborate gift filled the air in front of Harry with the now familiar red confetti. A new broomstick servicing kit and book entitled, 'Quidditch Moves for the Daring and Stupid' landed heavily in his lap. He grinned at Mrs. Weasley before picking up the envelope. It was deceptively heavy, and as he broke open the ancient seal a set of keys jingled onto the table. With shaking hands Harry pulled the parchment from the envelope and unfolded it. He felt tears well in his eyes as he recognised the handwriting and read the note aloud.

"Dear Harry, I wish I could give you these under better circumstances, but you know as well as I the dangers of facing Voldemort." Harry paused to wipe his face on his sleeve before reading on. "But I also realise that this must be a trying time for you. The keys will fit any door in Grimmauld Place, please consider it your own to do with as you wish. Of course, I hope you will decide to live there, and that your time within its walls will be happier than mine. Know that I'll always love you," Harry's voice cracked as he read the last line, "Just as much as I loved your father. Sirius." Harry whispered his godfather's name before gently picking the keys up from the table. Lupin's voice broke the uneasy silence.

"Harry?" he questioned.

"I'm okay," Harry replied, "Just a bit shocked." Harry was more surprised at how calm he was. This felt right, somehow. "So, do I have to sign anything…or something?" he asked, looking at Lupin who shook his head.

"No, Grimmauld Place is all yours, unless you don't want it. You'll need to appoint two adults as trustees," Lupin paused as Harry's face twisted into a confused frown, "Like guardians, but for the house," he continued. "They would look after it, in a legal sense, until you're eighteen then you'd have full control." Harry nodded.

"I know who I'd like to look after things," Harry paused and looked up at Lupin. "I think you and Mrs. Weasley would be perfect, if you wouldn't mind." Harry heard a gasp of shock from Mrs. Weasley, but Lupin smiled warmly and rested his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"I'd be delighted, Harry," he replied, a sadness in his eyes betraying the smile on his lips. Mrs. Weasley on the other hand hurried around the table and pulled Harry into a hug.

"Oh Harry," she exclaimed, "Thank you!" Wiping the tears from her eyes she stepped back from Harry. Gradually the chatter resumed and the kitchen was again filled with laughter. Pushing his chair back from the table, Harry picked up his gifts and walked silently from the room. As Ron stood to follow Harry, Lupin swiftly put out his hand to stop him.

"Leave him, he'll need some time to think." Ron nodded but looked wistfully out of the door at Harry's retreating back.


End file.
